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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951350">Drink deep from the chalice of stone and sweat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melangerubin/pseuds/melangerubin'>melangerubin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ascension, Dubious Consent, F/M, Giantess - Freeform, M/M, Nonhuman, Nonhuman intelligence, Religious Imagery, Size Kink, Vore, consensual vore, dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melangerubin/pseuds/melangerubin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>An idea born from discord, will be expanded upon as I see fit.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>acolyte/chalice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>An idea born from discord, will be expanded upon as I see fit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thick oily liquid, almost as if it had a mind of its own,slowly swirled in the chalice, its surface roughly hewn and cold to the touch. He felt his silken robe flutter against his body, carefully anointed and blessedly purged over the month. </p><p>As he gripped the handles of the deep chalice, it seemed as the viscous fluid in it moved in unpredictable ways, as no natural liquid should. The high ceilings of the cathedral, painted and sculpted with saints of sin and debauchery jeered him on. The air seemed the drop, a thick silence and icy winds. As he raised the chalice to his lips, fat and cherry red. Electric impulses ran through the chalice into his hands, racing to his mouth and throat. He felt a laugh rising up from deep in his chest, not as he would have laughed. It was deep and throaty, ancient and full of the kind of love that leaves you clinging to the hand of your lover. </p><p>"Good. Now take me in your mouth, as you would a lover."</p><p>His lips parted, the cold of the chalice contrasted by the warmth of the oily liquid that began running deeper and deeper down his throat, covering the inside of his mouth, as he swallowed it kept going deeper and deeper, he could not and would not release his vice like grip of the stone chalice. It tasted of honey and burned incense. He felt a laugh that vibrated through his body, his cock hard against the silk robe, caressing him like his bed mate had the nights before, feeling each others hardness in their hands, the semen mixing against their lips and chests. The thick warm liquid expanded in his throat, nearly all of it inside of his mouth and throat. </p><p>The laughter mixed with his moans and groans, ecstasy and pain as it began to twist itself around inside of his chest and abdomen. He took a last deep gulp, ran his fingers over his reddened lips, saliva mixed with what was left from the liquid. He licked his fingertips, the taste of stone and sweat cutting like a knife through the dark sweetness of the liquid. His still erect cock throbbing and dripping with sperm, leaving a slowly growing stain on his robe. A haze fell over him, nearly blinding him as he felt the last of the liquid drain into his stomach. His last conscious thought was this; he had become as royalty, and what he wanted was his for the taking.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Where lovers met and part</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which the Acolyte leave his lover behind.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was with a newfound sense of order and debauchery he awoke on the floor, cold around him but his shapely body had warmed the stone beneath him. He stretched, his joints clicking and popping as he did, going further and further. A wide, blissful smile grew on his lips as he felt his muscles twist underneath his skin. </p><p>The sun shine through the stained glass windows of holy sinners, saintly orgasmic, and exuberant flagellants, backs bloodied.<br/>The inside of his silken robes were stained with come, and he could feel that he'd be sore for days. His hand cramped in a rictus grip, he made his way to his room. </p><p>"This body will be explored, like that of a lovers loins." The thought came from deep within him, and he felt a shiver up his cock. The blessed one would have his fun, through and with his new acolyte and he would not stop his mentor. He could feel it, him, growing inside of him. He would need to feed it with sacred fluids, and their material counterparts. Deep in thought, he wandered nearly aimlessly, almost by happenstance he came to his room. The door was old and wooden, and not nearly thick enough to dampen the sounds of ritualistic worship of the material corpus.</p><p>Upon the shared bed his study mate and study material laid, splayed across it like a martyr on the rack. The Acolyte leaned over him, hands caressing the face and jaw of his lover. The Lover awoke with a moan as the Acolyte straddled him, gently opening his robes, showing his sigils and signs, smeared by come and drool. </p><p>"I did it." he said with earned gravitas that the day before would have sounded false and hollow. Now his words had the weight of well-deserved respect. The Lover gazed upon, his strong hands running over the pale flesh of the Acolyte. His eyes, golden brown as the autumn in all her magnificent decay, widened as he realized the magnitude of what has been done. He licked his lips, and felt the Acolyte push against his cock with his arse. The Acolyte leaned in closer and kissed him as deep as the ocean, as long as the coldest winter. There was a different heat and purpose to him now, the Lover thought as his hand grabbed the buttock of the Acolyte, spreading his arse wide, his cock riding between the nearly white cheeks covered with sigils. A dark giggle came from the Acolyte who leaned back and took the Lover slowly inside of him. The Mentor expanded inside of his abdomen, squeezing and twisting his guts, wrapping around the Lover's cock. The Acolyte's fingers found themselves around his own cock and inside the mouth of the Lover, thumb pressing the mouth wide open. </p><p>Together they moaned prayers and shouted ecstatic litanies of love, the Mentor tightening his grip around the Lover's cock from inside the Acolyte. He pulsed in deviant and wonderous ways, making them remember their first night together, fumbling hands drunk on lust and darkwine. They fucked as the Moon had fucked the Sun, the same enthusiastic way as the Ocean took her lover in her depths. They screamed prayers of love and deepest sin as they came together, the Mentor of the roughly hewn stone chalice making sure it lasted for as long as he pleased. The longer it went on, the harder and faster they came, the Acolyte leaving his seed and spit thick over his Lover's corpus. Meanwhile, the Lover's hips thrusted and bucked deeper and deeper into the Acolyte, driving him cum mad and emptying himself into the Mentor's depths. The Acolyte's teeth sank into the dark flesh of the Lover, leaving deep marks and indents, mixing sperm and blood.</p><p>The sun moved across the sky, the light waxing and waning outside their windows. They slowly began to feel something else but the lust for each others forms and energy. The Mentor had kept squeezing and constricting around the Lover, making it borderline painful to keep going. And yet, as the Acolyte moved off his compatriot, one last thrust left them exhausted and empty-headed. They stared into each other's eyes as they kissed and embraced, both knowing this would be the last time they would fuck as equals</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A brief interlud</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we find the Acolyte and the Keymaker becoming fast friends.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A brief interlude, or a rumination on a parable</p><p> </p><p>The Keymaker tells of a story she once heard as an apprentice. It’s about the Lusty Mother Superior of the Deep Cove and the chaste monk from beyond the vale. The Mother Superior reigns with a velveted iron hand and hear tales of a young monk, beautiful enough to make stone statues cry and thorny brambles part way before his feet. Of course, being in charge of a monastery, she had had her fun ordering flagellants and ministering vows of silence. But she has grown restless and bored. A missive was sent, and a rejection came in response. Furious,she whipped a young nun until her skin was raw and a sanguine mess. </p><p>Here the Keymaker laughed heartily and reminisced, old wounds glistening with sacred oils. As she began telling her story, his gaze wandered over her scarred and transformed body, rippling muscles betraying her apparent frail form. The Acolyte had heard and told variations on the same story before. The young handsome monk would reject her two times more, and each time the Mother Superior’s punishments grew harsher and crueler. The trick was to spice things enough to be original but not overdo it. The Monk would come, at last, to the Mother Superior. But he was far from any divine being and made her take a vow of silence as he took her, bodily and spiritually. Chains were popular, as were hooks of varying degrees of sharpness. The Keymaker opted to go for the meatier retelling, her lips wide as she noticed how the Acolyte stared at her once flayed skin, now made whole. </p><p>“Yes, it goes all over my body. Care to inspect me closer, seeing how you’re leering?” she jabbed and laughed, unbuttoning the first button of her bodice.  The Acolyte grinned at the giantess as he too began to undress, slowly like her. “Well, who could say no to the Keymaker?” he laughed and kissed her twisted hand, each digit as thick as his arms. </p><p>The story continued after the first night between the Mother Superior and the Monk. The second night she came to him, and took him as he took her. A flogger made from the hairs of sanctified nuns, the tips made from copper and bronze. She whipped him in silence, made him squirm and sing the song of fleshwant made manifest in his bonds of rosaries. </p><p>The Keymaker opened her mouth and took the Acolyte in it, her sharp tongue running up his legs, over his cock. He groaned, for as much as it was a pleasurable experience, she was rougher than he expected. Her breath was heavy and warm of seawine, the warmth she exhaled onto him alone was intoxicating. Her pointed teeth dug gently into his flesh. The mentor began to hum from deep within, expanding into his muscles and soul. He felt it, or maybe it was the Keymaker, moving across his ass, perhaps they came from their own direction and met in the middle. The mentor pulsated in time with the Keymaker’s breaths, growing faster and faster. He could see from the corner of his eyes that she had slid her hand down her loincloth, thick coppery hair against brass red skin. Her other hand held him upright as he began to thrust against her tongue, rubbing and grinding his cock against her cat like tongue. </p><p>The third night, they went together and formed a new cloister. He had filled her with his seed and her stomach was bulging. The Father of stars led them with his light, his brother Moon shone up a dark forest. The One who whispers on the wind told them that here they would lay, and watch how stone would turn beneath them. A prodigious child was promised to arrive soon, and much later a pilgrim and acolyte would learn of the deep routes. </p><p>The Acolyte howled as he came on her tongue for the second time, the tip of her tongue now firmly inside of him. She closed her lips around him and swallowed, almost dragging him down with his own cum. After she let him out, wet with saliva and his own seed, he kissed her, barely a peck on her lips. She grinned, baring her teeth at him as the Acolyte crawled over her body, down toward her cunt. “As you treated me, I’ll treat you”, he mumbled with a voice thick and hoarse. He leaned forward and began to lick her.</p>
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